The Ramblings Continue

It seems to me that the more I write about this stuff, the more I begin to remember. Sometimes it comes very slowly in small bits while other times it just floods it's way into my brain. Whichever way it chooses, the images and moments are bringing back things I have not thought about for a long long time! One of those that took me by flood is the first time I ever realized there was a "Car Thing" going on.

Growing up, I was given little glimpses of the "Car Thing" from my father. I knew he was excited about some spinner hubcaps he put on his 62 Ford Galaxie but I just couldn't figure out why he would shine them up even though they were still clean.

I sensed there was something special about this event, not only from the excitement my Dad was showing, but because all the neighbors came over to ask my Dad about those caps!! I mean to tell you, they talked for hours about it. Beyond that, I still remember my Dad and Uncle laughing about the old days when they drove from Chicago to Cleveland in my Dad's straight eight Pontiac, cruising at 120 MPH on bald tires. It was a different kind of laugh and the look in their eyes was striking!! Yet, I still didn't understand fully what was going on! Not until many years later, in 1967, would I begin to really understand.

I used to spend a couple of weeks each summer with my Aunt & Uncle. They had three sons, all much older than me, so needless to say, I always had a blast. But this particular summer was a bit different. The eldest of the three was off in Vietnam and my favorite of the three was in the Army too, so the youngest brother was stuck entertaining me. Joe was the proud owner of a beautiful red 67 Mercury Cougar he bought brand new, but the poor guy was stuck cruising with me in the back seat. I remember thinking it was such a cool car and it seemed so fast, even though it was powered with a 289 2bbl engine. It was such an exciting experience for me, not just because it was a new car, but the bucket seats and floor mounted automatic shifter all added to the excitement. I had never been in such a car. STILL, it had not totally grabbed me untilllllll...There we were, cruising along, Joe driving, his friend riding shotgun and tag along me in the back when I heard a loud rumbling noise next to us. I looked out the window at what I now know to be a Chevelle. Not only did this car sound different and look different, with this large "thing" sticking out of the hood, but what was most striking was the reaction Joe and his pal had to it. When his friend excitedly yelled, "TAKE HIM JOE!!!!!" And when Joe slammed that shifter all the way back as he floored it, and when the meats on that Chevelle started screaming as that Rat motor came alive leaving that Cougar in a cloud of smoke, THAT was the EXACT moment I realized what it was all about. I was hopelessly hooked and wanted to join this club in the worst way! BUT, time goes by soooooo slowly for a 13 year old boy who desperately wants to drive and become a member of the "Car Thing Club" and for me, it seemed like an eternity. The only thing that helped me make it through that long wait was a little red Renault Dauphine (like the one pictured here) that someone gave to my father.

It was in pretty good shape but lacked brakes, the reason the car was given to us in the first place. As it turned out, Dad was having a terrible time trying to make them work so the car just sat there in the garage begging for some attention. I used to sit in that car and play with the floor shifter dreaming of the day I could start driving. For years I watched my Dad drive his 1959 VW Beetle and just KNEW I could drive this car if given half a chance. Little did I know, that "chance" would come much sooner than I ever dreamed possible!

Before going any further into this story, I need to share some important details with you. My Dad worked the midnight shift and was gone all night earning his living. After he left for work, my Mom would get comfy on the couch and watch Johnny Carson's "Tonight Show" then fall fast asleep. The other important piece of groundwork needed to make this story understandable involves a sleeping bag I was given on my 14th birthday. When summer rolled around, I couldn't WAIT to try out my birthday present and really got into sleeping outdoors in the yard every night. Soon, my next door neighbor, Dennis, started to sleep out there with me. So there we were, me and Dennis goofing off late at night, bored and looking for something to do. We soon found ourselves sitting in the Renault when suddenly we noticed the KEY in the ignition!!!! NOW, you tell ME what two young boys with a burning desire to drive and no adult supervision would do??! You guessed it, we quietly pushed that baby out of the garage and down into the street and as I jumped behind the wheel I realized there was just a twist of the key standing between me and the driving experience. And twist it I did!! As that motor fired up, Dennis and I were hooting and hollering, excited as all get up. WE were about to go driving!! As I revved it up and slowlyyyyy let the clutch out, the car jerked forward just a bit and stalled. It sure looked easy when my Dad did it. But after about the third or fourth attempt, we were on our way. That moment was so exciting. With the feel of the vibrations coming through the steering wheel and the response of the engine to my foot pressure on the gas pedal, driving was MORE fun than I imagined! In seconds I had run the shifter through all the gears but the excitement disappeared in a flash as I remembered one important detail
NO BRAKES!!!!!

I grew up in regular ol' middle class suburbia where there was one little brick ranch after another having nothing but a driveway in between them. The tree lined streets were actually quite short and I was coming up to the end of this one FAST!! I can't really say what speed I was traveling at though it couldn't have been more than maybe 10 mph, but it felt like I was flying! In a "white knuckle" panic, I jammed the brake pedal to the floor with all the strength I had...NOTHING....the car just kept rolling along!! I hit the pedal again and again until I began to feel just the slightest bit of braking action. I just kept pumping until the natural deceleration along with what brake pressure there was, brought the car to a stop. WOWWWWW, I ACTUALLY drove a car!! The excitement was almost overwhelming as Dennis and I were just looking at each other laughing!! You would think that "near death experience" we just had jamming on the brake pedal (while thinking we'd end up in some poor guy's living room) would have been enough to deter us from anymore driving BUT off we went again, driving around and around the block until the wee hours, while the pillows we stuffed into our sleeping bags assured any concerned adults that we were safe and sound sleeping our lives away. It became a regular addiction as we cruised our quiet neighborhood streets almost each and every night, learning exactly how soon I needed to start pumping the brake pedal to come to a safe stop. Before long, I found myself getting so brave that I was actually sneaking the car out in broad daylight whenever my Mom would be out running errands or shopping. This went on for over a month and probably could have gone on right until I reached driving age except for one little problem.

It seems a neighbor named Phyllis had her car in the shop so she called my Mom to see if I could give her daughter Linda, a ride to the doctor's office. She had seen me driving around the neighborhood and just assumed I had my license!! I recall sitting at the kitchen table when the call came in.
The one sided conversation sounded something like this
"Oh, Hi Phyllis, how are you??"
"Yesssssss?? Ohhhh well I would say OK but he doesn't drive yet."
"HUHHHHH????!!! YOU'RE Kidding me...RIGHT??? Are you SURE it was HIM??!!"

I just KNEW I was in T.R.O.U.B.L.E. but before I could slither out of the kitchen into a hole somewhere, I got nabbed. I'm here to tell you, it was UGLY. I knew when my Dad got word, I was bound to be hog-tied to a set of railroad tracks somewhere and left waiting for the 3:15 Cannonball Express to come along and end my pitiful little life!! At this point, I felt that would probably be the most merciful way to go. But as was often the case in those days, Mom, in her infinite wisdom, opted NOT to squeal on me, so other than being banned from sleeping out in the yard, I was off the hook!! Little did I know I would eventually tell on myself in a most comical way.

My Dad showed up from work one morning with a fellow who had a welding rig in the back of his truck. They went straight to work welding nuts onto the brake adjusters that stuck out through the backing plates and before long, the Renault had brakes. After a short test drive, my Dad paid the guy for his work, looked over at me and asked if I wanted to learn how to drive a stick shift car. My heart leaped with joy, I was going to have the chance to drive again with full blessings!!!! I jumped in behind the wheel as Dad got in and as he just started to explain about the clutch and gas, I was squawking the tires as I pulled away from the curb, my foot well into the gas pedal, shifting the gears as I had done so many times before. Of course my Father had no clue I already knew how to drive so he was in a state of sheer terror as we hit almost 30MPH, thinking he was trapped in a runaway car with a 14 year old lunatic at the wheel! As I stopped at the corner all smiling and proud, I looked over at him and suddenly realized, from the pale color, gritted teeth and beads of sweat on his forehead, that he was NOT amused!
It was in this manner I successfully filled out my application to the "Club"!

SERVING MY APPRENTICESHIP

The years just trickled by ever so slowly though bit by bit, I worked my way through the process put together by folks whose main interest was in torturing young kids wanting that freedom only driving could provide. But the time finally arrived and there it was in my hand, an actual driver's license with MY name on it!! I was so close to being a part of the "Car Thing" I could taste it! It was clear, the application I had filled out so long ago was accepted and the
time had come to serve my apprenticeship!

I had been working and saving my money to buy my first car and actually, the visions I had of that first car were no where near what I ended up with! It's not easy to make enough money from a paper route, from helping out the milkman on Saturdays and from bussing tables at some hole in the wall greasy spoon to buy the Lamborghini Miura S I was reading all about in my Road & Track Magazines!! Don't laugh, it's TRUE, I was SURE I could save enough money to buy one. Talk about a rude awakening. It was a difficult task to quell that youthful optimism long enough to realize it wasn't gonna happen but once I accepted that fact, I was on a mission to find my first set of wheels. To me, it was nothing but fun scanning the "For Sale" ads and looking at the cars, but for my Dad, in his own words, it was Pure Hell!!"

I truly never gave the poor guy a break and the kind of machines I was looking at, well, let's just say he was kinda forced to say "NO" to a kid that was as persistent as they come. I mean to tell you, I had a thousand reasons why he should change his answer and argued each one with such skill that my Dad would have to end it with the parental standard,
"Cause I SAID so, THAT'S why, now DON'T ask again!!"
It started with a 1958 Mercedes 190SL that sported red paint and a black leather interior. I wanted it so bad and actually had the $375 needed to make the deal. The only problems were a crack in the block and rusted rear quarters, how hard or expensive could that be to fix??! I pumped my Dad for over a week on that one, I mean relentless and daily!! Next on the list was a Studebaker Goldenhawk, all in primer with a gutted interior but it had a suspension and drivetrain set up to run on the Bonneville Salt Flats. It was easy to get Dad out to look at it. When I said Stude, he smiled. But once he looked at it and the guy told him how it was set up to run at 130 MPH + all day long, the smile turned into a resounding NO!! I spent another week trying to convince him that I would drive it slow!! You might think that would have made me realize that a 68 427 big block Mustang with a trashed motor would have been out of the question too!! Then there was the Deuce and a Half Army truck for sale at a local lot that I wanted REALLLLL bad.

I asked him what he thought about a truck!! "NOW you're thinking!!" was his answer but when I took him to see this "truck", well, it was the most frustrated head shaking I have ever witnessed!! I thought the poor man was gonna break down and actually cry. I think it was at that moment he decided to take matters into his own hands. Shortly after that incident, I got home from working at the restaurant and found, sitting in the driveway, a 1964 Ford F-100 Styleside pick up truck. For all my excitement you would have thought it WAS that Lamborghini! I was one happy boy and my apprenticeship was in full swing!

It really wasn't much of a truck with a 6 banger and 3 on the tree, but it WAS solid and it was MINE so what more could I ask for? The first order of business was to make it steerable since the king pins were rusted almost solid and it had no power steering. With the help of Dad and the local machine shop, I got that problem resolved and most people would think
"End Of Story"
But it was just the beginning and what was about to happen, well, let's just say it's where any good musclecar story starts.

THAT'S ME, MY DOG PONCHO (BELIEVE IT OR NOT) AND MY TRUCK
THE DAY I CAME HOME TO FIND IT SITTING IN THE DRIVEWAY

My older sister's boyfriend was a bona fide 60's motorhead and he had a set of 60 series Firestone Wide Ovals mounted on some chrome wheels up for sale!! Since I had an "in", being he was dating my sister, he sold them to me for a whopping $20!! He had one heck of a sales pitch, "You GOTTA get those UGLY camper special tires off of that truck!!" He then convinced me that a "Grabber Blue" paint job would work wonders, so my poor Dad got back onto my "pester" list. Before long, Dad and I had it painted and looking real good sitting on those wide tires with the chrome wheels polished to the max, topped off with a set of baby moon hubcaps. Of course, my motorhead journeyman whispered in my ear that it LOOKED the part but still had to SOUND the part so he showed me how to make fake dual exhaust along with a Thrush muffler for effect!! Then he gave me a set of "BOSS 429" decals that we put on the side at the end of the truck bed near the taillight, right at the top with 2 pinstripes running down the length of the bed from the cab to the decal!!

It looked cool, sounded cool and with those 429 decals on it, many guys were afraid to race that 6 banger F-100 from a light. This was it, I was a member of the car thing!!! I soon learned how over inflating the tires and dumping the clutch would make that sucker burn rubber as though it truly had something under the hood. I was just 16 and had older guys asking me
"Hey, you're the guy with the Boss truck ain’t ya??"
"Had it out to the strip yet?"
But like the old saying goes, "You can fool some of the people some of the time". Truth was, the guys who had oil, instead of blood, running through their veins spotted me as a fake from a mile away and a person eventually runs out of excuses as to why he can't open the hood when asked to see the engine. The fact of the matter is a Thrush muffler, a set of chrome wheels and a Boss decal could carry me just so far. Sooner or later, as I found out, it becomes "Put Up Or Shut Up" time

Even though most of the local crowd ended up knowing what I had under the hood, it was still a blast cruising that old truck! Besides, there were always people to trick and it became my goal not to see who I could beat in a race, but to see who I could scare into NOT racing me! What a riot!! A little rubber noise from jockeying the pedal and a lot of guys in truly HOT cars would just give me the thumbs up but NO RACE! In retrospect, considering my age and experience, it was a good thing I didn't have anything powerful under that hood. Having what I did, kept me out of any real trouble. I owned that truck until 1973 when I traded it even up for a 1967 650 Kawasaki, a story of it's own which I might get into some other time.
Anyhow, I was ready to enter a new stage in the "Car Thing" process!

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